


Cherry Pie

by orphan_account



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Mostly blow jobs, Sam is fifteen for the short prologue in the first chapter, but there's a two year timeskip right after that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam may be young, but he knows what he wants.. and more importantly, he knows how to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I first started, my intention had been to write a short porny fic about teenage!Sam seducing Alan. But somewhere between the initial idea and the first word I typed I realized, wait, wouldn't it be more fun to write about a teenaged Sam seducing all the guys instead? 
> 
> And so, this:

Sam is fifteen when he finds the magazines in the neighbor's house. A single box fully tucked away in the closet of his friend's older brother like some sort of obscene treasure trove, and the young blond had to admit that it was as he was treated to a graphic two-page spread. A pair of lips, wet and swollen, wrapped so tightly around another man's cock that he felt his own twitch at the sight. He’d seen porn mags before, but he'd never been able to find any like this, and after minutes of staring transfixed at the images his mouth falls open in a fit of wide-eyed stammering as Jeff comes in. He looked pissed, ready to physically throw Sam out of his room before he realized that those pretty blue eyes were staring hungrily at his crotch as he considered trying out what he just saw. If nothing else, it would keep the older teen from ratting him out. At first Jeff just laughs at the offer, tells him he doesn't have to do a damn thing if he just gets out and keeps quiet about the stash.. Sam hears himself say that he _wants_ to before he's even realized just how much he does. He’s clumsy at first, but probably just as eager, and it isn't long before Jeff's hands are in his hair, tugging at the strands as he moans his name. Sam came first.

 

Two years before _that day_ on the beach, and by then he's already good at it and knows how to get it. Usually choosing to flaunt his talents in plain sight under the guise of eagerly sucking at a lollipop to get at the chewy core. It was something he recognized early on as a quick way to let men know he wouldn't object to something with a little more substance, if they were looking. And one _was_ looking. The man himself wasn't an Adonis, a little stocky though well-muscled, but Sam considered almost everything secondary to one very important factor. His eyes had drifted to the man's groin almost instinctively, and at the sight of the already noticeable outline in those trunks he realized his mouth suddenly felt _very_ empty. When he looked back up, the man smirked and minutely nodded his head toward the bathrooms. Sam, as always, managed to excuse himself without issue and followed the path the man had gone down like a puppy after a treat. But it was worth the sting of hot sand on his soles when he was finally at his knees on the cold floor of the bathroom, his mouth fucked in earnest by possibly the thickest he'd had yet, though likely nowhere close to the longest, until he could taste load after load being emptied for him to swallow, and he did. _Gratefully_.

 

The return trip is much less eventful. Riding in the passenger seat with nothing to amuse him but the drive itself and the scheduled setting of the sun since the radio was busted. That and the occasional odd glance he got from the way he was sitting. Feet up on the dashboard to show off his long smooth legs, something his shorts were _purposely_ more than capable of doing on their own, as he ate cherry after cherry in a way he knew would get as much juice to drip down his fingers as possible. Not that _he_ ever noticed, of course. And true to form, when Sam glanced over at the driver's side he found what he always did. Alan utterly oblivious to Sam's less than innocent behavior, cheerfully doing whatever the boy asked of him. Like drive ten minutes out of the way for a bag of berries from a particular store, that were no different from the ones on the way or the ones at the house, all the while asking for nothing more in return than the occasional hug and maybe a smile. _Regrettably_ , the boy thinks with a mindless huff.

“You okay Sam?” The words are unmasked, coated in saccharine amounts of genuine _fatherly_ concern that would bother Sam more if he didn’t like the doting it came with so much. “You’ve barely talked this whole trip.” That _would_ seem suspicious..  

“I’m fine, Al.” Sam said as he glanced over, cherry stained lips tugging into an easy smile that he knew would hardly phase the handsome adult any more than a small child’s would. “Just thinking about some summer project shi—” He caught himself, letting out a soft laugh at the quirked brow Alan gave at the slip. “Stuff, sorry. But yeah, No big deal.”

Alan simply nodded in response, adding a soft ‘Oh’ when he realized Sam might not be looking to see it as he pulled up into his own driveway. He had Sam for the weekend, an arrangement that somehow made more sense now that the boy was older and had places to go. His gran couldn’t exactly take him all over town, and she _definitely_ didn’t give into his wishes as often as Alan did. So if nothing else, it worked out very well for Sam himself. As most things did when he had a hand in it.

The teen paid little mind to the sand still clinging to his body when he tossed himself onto the couch, receiving nothing more than a look of admonishment from Alan for his crime, which of course dissolved into amusement when the blond blinked his eyes up at him like a kitten who didn’t know better than to look into a bright light. “You’re incorrigible.” He Alan mutter teasingly as he headed off into the kitchen. “No, I’m thirsty.” Sam called after without so much as turning his head. “Coke please?”

The affirmative reply came almost instantly, something Sam never grew tired of. “You’re a hero, Al.”  A very whipped hero.

He’d barely snorted at the thought before Alan returned with his drink, setting it down on a coaster for him because he knew his frequent guest wouldn’t do it himself. “I have some work to do, but I’ll still make dinner later.” From anyone else he’d assume these were set plans, but from Alan he knew it was just a well spoken suggestion.

Sam shrugged his agreement, not particularly caring what they ate as long as it wasn’t pizza. Just in the off-chance that their food was delivered by the same man from a few weeks ago, when Alan had to leave Sam at the last minute and the blond was just _so bored_.. “Great.” Alan responded verbally, and the smile he gave before he left should have been classified as illegal years ago.

Sam found himself wondering if it wouldn’t be better to chance getting that same pizza guy, if only to take the edge off his ever-present libido.


	2. Mr. Mackey

Summer, as always, gives way to fall. Clocks turn back, leaves change, and everyone below the age of nineteen is once more given a less than consoling kick in the ass and forced back into an eight hour schoolday.

Which is why, of all the things Richard Mackey could have assumed he’d find on his desk when he stepped into his office that day, Sam Flynn was _certainly_ not one of them. 

There were plenty of other reasons, but watching that boy uncross his legs to straddle the desk, looking at him expectantly through lashes so thick Richard could have forgotten for a moment he wasn’t looking at a girl’s eyes, with his head cocked like an invitation and a smirk on his face as if he knew some wonderfully filthy secret, he found he couldn’t control his thoughts long enough to come up with anything specific.

But, of course, _Flynn’s son_ wasn’t exactly the coy highschool girl men fantasized about when things got stale at home. And even if he was, Richard wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ , he told himself—fall for the deliberate licking of those plump lips, or the impish glimmer in those otherwise deceptively doe-like eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” He said firmly as he approached his desk, his intent to move the boy superseded by the blond swinging his other leg back around so he could face both the older man and the window. Dear _god_ the window. “If you’re here for Bradley, he’s not due for another three minutes. And even then you have to wait for our meeting to finish.” Sam noticeably scoffed at the words as soon as they were spoken, and Richard could hardly blame him for it. 

If Sam wanted to talk to the most loyal subject of Flynn’s struggling kingdom, he’d get to. Hell or high water.

“Listen _Richard_.” The boy said haughtily, reaching out to trail his fingers down the other's tie as he looked up at him with more want than had been sent in his direction in _years_. “Don’t you think that if I wanted to see Alan, I’d have just gone to _his_ office and spread myself out on _his_ desk?”

The implication brought a flush to the older man’s cheeks, and while he should have felt outraged at the idea of Sam’s.. educated behavior being influenced by Alan, in an admittedly horrible way it took some of the guilt away. Sam, for whatever reason, clearly knew what he was doing, and..

He was jolted away from his thoughts by the clinking of his belt buckle, already being undone by lithe and smooth fingers as if the blond had gotten all the answer he needed. “Been awhile, huh?” The word’s barely register in Richard’s ears, but when he felt well-trained fingers ghost over his heated flesh he understood.

He was _hard_.

“Y-you shouldn’t..” It came out a suggestion, a _half-hearted_ suggestion all but entirely hidden in one heady sigh, but the way that Sam was already working his cock it was a miracle he’d even managed that. “ _Fuck_ , Sam..”

“Maybe some other time.” The teen purred and all Richard could do was huff a laugh, because there was a teenage boy palming him like a pro not even six inches away from the picture of his wife, and it was wrong and _hot_ and Mackey couldn’t help but thrust into those eager fingers and imagine what that mouth could do if his hands were capable of _this_.

As if on cue the blond scooted forward, about to drop to his knees and give Richard what he could only imagine to be the most incredible blowjob of his life when reality came crashing down with three simple and normally unobtrusive knocks.

Alan.

Sam doesn’t even give him the benefit of a panicked look in his eyes, and for a fleeting moment he was sure he saw disappointment. Though whether it was to do with them being interrupted or Alan not just coming in and seeing them he wasn’t sure. Frankly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The coy smirk that lit up those devilishly handsome features answered his question just after he banished the thought, and in an instant he knew to call out a delay to keep Sam from beckoning the possibly unsuspecting executive inside to see the eyeful of the century. 

“One second, Mr. Bradley. Just finishing up a call.” The unimpressed look on the blond’s face was entirely unnecessary, but Mackey ignored it in favor of tucking himself back into his slacks, taking his seat, and gesturing for Sam to get up and hide. 

Which, to his credit, he did. 

Sam kept his eyes trained on the bulge in the larger man’s pants, that still had yet to waver, as he slid down the edge of the desk in an exaggerated fashion and to his feet. Richard felt his pulse quicken as he noticed the boy was standing in the gap between his knees and the desk itself, and at once he realized the mistake of not scooting his chair in when he had the chance.

He’d always tell himself that he was too caught up in the surreality of it all to stop the boy from sinking to his knees beneath his desk, parting his legs and tugging the chair neatly into place with Richard still in it.

Without question Richard _knew_ he didn’t like men. He’d never had the urge some of his college friends had ‘just to try’, but there was something about the moment-no, something about _Sam_ that made it impossible to look at that face, see the offer those big blue eyes were soundlessly making and say _no_.

He swallowed, sure he could hear the last of his conscience splintering into dust as he picked the phone up and set it down louder than necessary. “I’m finished.” He called weakly, and the ghost of a breath against his freshly closed zipper as the door opened nearly ended him just then.

“ _Not yet you’re not.._ ”

He felt his eyelids flutter, his stomach already dropping as he looked up to ensure that Bradley hadn’t seen, only to vehemently thank whatever god was listening for Alan’s habitual pager check, which kept his eyes away from Richard’s face.

“I just wanted to go over—” And Mackey knew he was saying something, could see his lips move and heard the usual professional tone. But the words fell on more than deaf ears as those fingers carefully, and so damn quietly he could have laughed again, worked his pants back open and began to caress his suddenly throbbing organ with just enough pressure to make him shift in his seat. But Alan didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he probably heard Sam was in the building or knew he was coming and was eager to get to the boy he didn’t know was nestled sweetly between his thighs.

Richard felt his dick twitch eagerly, and only then did he realize just how much excitement came simply from the idea of fucking that know-it-all’s goldenboy _in front of him_. 

Bradley never shut up about the kid, always talking about how smart he is, how talented he is. And Mackey would have to nod in agreement at the last one, in the very least. But he couldn’t have possibly known about _this_ talent. Richard was certain of that now. Sam was too good, too experienced, to be the other man’s lover if he was also running around and doing things like this with other men too. There was no way anyone could want to share.

He felt the brush of wet lips against him before the cool of the room even registered on his hot and sensitive skin, and Richard had to fight a mocking smile as he carded his fingers through that silky blond hair to encourage him to go on. To kiss it, lick it, _suck it_. And somewhere between figures and one of several management complaints he felt the cool slick of a skilled tongue sliding up his shaft. The fingers of his other hand gripped at the desk as he fought to keep the reaction of his upper half no more noticeable than a heavier sigh.

Alan rolled his eyes, interpreting it as a criticism for his assessment of something Richard would have to ask for a physical report on because _Sam Flynn_ had his perfect mouth wrapped around the head of his cock and was sucking on it as if it were the best fucking thing he’d ever had in his life.

His grip tightened in the boy’s hair to get him to stop long enough to respond, or at least in something other than a heady groan, and thankfully the boy stilled.

He’d barely made it to the center of his reply, not even a full minute and a half, before he could feel the impatient sweep of a tongue, and in that moment Richard had no more delusions about Sam not wanting to get caught. 

He _wanted_ Alan to see him. Hell, the whole thing might have even been a perceived opportunity to show him how good he was.

Unfortunately for him, Alan had other plans. “Look, if you’re not going to pay attention..”

“A-actually,” Mackey quickly stammered, making up some lie about not feeling well, that he then used to hide his momentary panting behind a cough, and Sam—brilliant, perfect, _horrible_ Sam—smirked in that moment.

it was the one entirely useless warning Sam gave to Richard before he opened his lovely mouth, nice and wide as if someone were watching, and took the man all the way down in a single go. Making the man gasp and choke enough on the rest of his reply that he was genuinely surprised when Alan didn’t ask if he were coming down with some rare disease.

Instead, calmly as he did everything else, Bradley simply asked if it would be better to come back when Mackey felt better, as he had to meet with Sam in the lobby in a few minutes regardless. Richard nodded, thankful as he was because when Sam began to bob his head, tongue swirling around the tip as he pulled back, and slowly swallowing once he was deep enough for Mackey to feel it, the softest of groans escaped the both of them and he knew he couldn’t have kept it up forever.

It both surprised him and didn’t when Sam stopped moving after the door shut behind his godfather, but it _more_ than surprised him when he began again. Sam’s hand began to stroke him in earnest, not bothering to match the bobbing of his head. It was sloppy, but it was also effective to the point of halting almost all thought.

Richard groaned softly into the crook of his arm, rocking his hips now despite the obvious creaking of his office chair and how loud the wet sound of him slipping into Sam’s mouth seemed in the otherwise quiet room. He focused on it, wanted to commit this moment to memory, and only then did he notice the desperate mewls coming from the blond, as if he were begging for something. As if he _needed_ Richard to-

“ _Ahhhhhhhh...._ ” It came out shaky, weak, but he could barely care what he sounded like. His back arched, mouth fell open, and his whole body shook as he came. Filling Sam’s mouth with cum faster than even the blond could swallow it, and sure he’d be ready to go again soon if the boy kept making those hungry noises.

“Fuck, Sam..” He breathed when he'd finished sucking him dry and pulled back. Richard tucked himself away again in his surprisingly stainless pants when Sam pushed his chair back to crawl out and leave. 

But not before pausing, still half-kneeling between the man’s legs with the sort of expression one sees on a sugar addict only after they've been allowed something tooth-achingly sweet. Richard was stunned for a moment, and before the guilt had even begun to seep back into his mind at the thought of what he’d done, Sam’s next words banished the possibility of that feeling forever.

“I told you.. maybe next time.”


	3. Dillinger Jr.

Sometimes, as rare as it is, Sam’s cravings will deviate from his usual preference in favor of.. much smaller game. 

Or at least younger. He never went for small.

He'd spotted him on his way to the lobby, a rendezvous he knew he shouldn't be late for and only would be for the walking wet dream that was heading down the opposite way. The way he fit into his tight silk vest was enough to make anyone's steps falter, but it was the way his sleeves were rolled up to draw attention to his drool-worthy arms that could have rightfully been classified as _torturous_ , and when he strode down the hall it was clear in every step that he knew exactly what he was doing to any coworker who was so inclined. Or questioning.

Sam swallowed when the man caught his eyes, smiling politely with lips so soft-looking he felt a simultaneous pang of jealousy and lust at the mere sight of them, and as soon as he'd walked passed him the blond couldn't help but turn around to see if those tight jeans were as good a fit in the back as what he'd glimpsed of the front.

"Hot damn," He muttered unquietly, imagining how perfectly that ass would fit in his palms, and smirking at the pause in the other's steps just from his simple outburst when the other glanced over his shoulder to look back at him. He seemed to be appraising Sam for a moment, his own gaze lingering on everything long enough to make Sam's heart pound even before their stares met again.

Approval. Clear and absolutely devastating to the last of Sam's already flimsy reason after being cheated out of his fuck in Mackey's office, especially from behind those shining lenses and sharp-angled frames.

He wasn't sure what it was that finally made the eye-contact stop, but he had to guess it had something to do with the ill-timed man that passed them both with purpose on his own way down the hall. It was the only thing that could have explained the lack of heat in those eyes when he looked at Sam again. Or perhaps judgement had kicked in. 

Movement came to them both again, and the stubbled man gave him a simple communicative look as he readjusted his shirt, before quickly turning off course and striding into the restroom. It wasn't ideal, but the scene would serve him so much better than anywhere else nearby, the both of them really, and Sam never questioned why things always happened to work in his favor.

The click of the door shutting as he joined the older man in the washroom seemed deafening in that moment, and must have been to cause his newest possible conquest to look up from his place bent over the running faucet. Face still dripping from when he'd undoubtably splashed it, glittering droplets of water clinging to his features in every way it needed to make Sam want to lick it off.

"You know," The blond started, licking his own lips as he began to walk over. "you can stay bent ov—"

"Wait," The other effectively silenced the lewd scene Sam had planned to paint with his words with a raised hand and stern expression, and in that moment Sam recognized him at last.

Edward. Dillinger's son. 

He nearly groaned aloud at that little realization alone, years of his father trying to turn their names into the next vengeance based tragedy had only succeeded in giving Sam a deep seated hatred of Dillinger Senior. Senior who came to certain ENCOM affairs on a purely diplomatic invitation and a welcome he more than overstayed. Senior who made a point to make some snide little comment everytime Sam was in earshot and no one else around would catch it.

It was so rare that the satisfaction of an encounter would last more than a few days, but he was sure he could go months on this one alone.

"How old are you, exactly?" Edward questioned at last, and to Sam's dismay it wasn't hard to tell he was nervous to hear what the answer was. And, for all his fuzzy logic, he could understand why.

"Seventeen." Sam replied at last, smirking in a way that could've made the most responsible person tune out the reckless implications of the word. And it did. He knew the quickest way to convince Ed this wasn't a horrible idea was to keep the focus on why they were both there, that it wouldn't matter if he'd admitted to being seventeen or seven hundred, because Ed hadn't stopped staring at him like he's a ride he desperately wants to take since he turned around. He wasn't worried about his chances in the slightest.

"Seventeen.." Ed repeated, and only then did Sam catch the slight breathiness in his voice, realize how the brunet had let his eyes travel low. He had a reputation to uphold, Sam knew that. It was something Alan had tried and failed to get Sam to understand. Something he'd tossed aside in favor of being able to do things like let gorgeous programming interns pull him with them up against cool tile walls, and smirk at the permission finally given to nibble at their necks, swirl his tongue over the freshly made and wonderfully noticeable marks he'd have to cover later and bite down just as the man against him gasped.

"I- ahh.." Sam smirked at the stammering, the gasp as he licked along the shell of the man's ear, and the simple fact that he couldn't seem to get enough of leaning into the teen's body. "Oh god." He groaned, bucking his hips in an instinctive answer to Sam's deliberate grinding before his hands raised in what Sam thought was an attempt to push him away. He'd barely moved to give the other some space when those long-fingered hands quickly took hold of his thick blond hair and pulled him into the almost bruising kiss Ed knew they'd both wanted. The contact alone nearly brought him to his knees.

Sam returned it with fervor, his own hands taking the other's at the wrist to pin above his head as he kissed his way into that pliant mouth to taste every inch, every crevice until there was no air left between the two of them and Sam had to pull back for more than just to sate his pleading lungs.

The glasses on Junior's face had skewed, his hair sticking up where his head had rubbed against the wall from their rocking bodies alone, and he'd yet to so much as open those pretty blue eyes again as he panted his way back down from the simple, yet undoubtable powerful high of their kiss. Idly Sam wondered if this was how he looked when men kissed him, debauched and wanton, and so very perfect.

"Fuck me.." The brunet panted, and while Sam knew a turn of phrase when he heard one he still pressed in closer. "That wasn't a-"  He silenced him teasingly with another kiss, his hands sliding between his temporary lover and the wall to finally take hold of his behind, kneading it as he stood up on his toes to nibble along his jaw on his way to breathe against his ear.

"Wasn't what? An offer?" The hold of one hand tightened as the other came back around to start working on Junior's belt. "Sure you don't wanna make it one?" Again those lithe hips bucked, a moan flittering passed his swelling lips as he babbled something about someone being able to catch them. Moving sounded like torture, but Sam wasn't looking to get anyone fired either.

With a huff he pulled away, and it was almost worth the delay to see the way Edward started to reach for him he caught himself. "The stall's big enough, don't you think?" He questioned, trying to keep the heaviness out of his own breathing as he motioned to the open door of the largest one. It wasn't exactly private, but it would keep anyone from knowing who it was right away.

A breath more of silence between them and Sam was turning on his heel to leave, but a hand caught him by the arm as quickly as he'd begun to move and dragged him into the stall without another word. He only let him go to shut the door, but it was long enough for Sam to press against his back and start sucking on his neck with all the talent his locker-room-famous mouth possessed, and at the first grind of Sam's now painful erection against the other's still-clothed ass, he was done with feigning patience. 

Sam wasted no time in undoing Junior's pants now, needing to feel the heavy weight of a cock in his hand almost as much as Junior needed the friction. And if the sounds he was making were any indication, he'd needed that friction a hell of a lot. Which was doing nothing to help the blond cling to the last shreds of sensibility he had left in him.

Every gasped plea, every whimpered " _oh god_ ", made it harder not to actually take him up against the slightly creaky door, but Sam knew that he'd want to take his time if he did, and time was not something he had a lot of at the moment.

When he sped up his hand, the body beneath him reacted at once, matching his pace and digging his fingers into the smooth steel he was braced against as he was reduced to nothing but a steady stream of grunts, but even then Sam didn't let up. His hand abandoned his hold on the thin hip in favor of hurriedly undoing the first few buttons of the other's shirt and tugging at the fabric of the collar, all so he could suck and bite over the expanse of creamy flesh of his shoulder and up along his neck.

Sam's thumb brushed over the head, his arousal pressed into him further, and grazed his teeth over a patch of skin just beneath the brunet's ear. "Wanna fuck you so bad.."

Junior cried out when he came.

 

Despite his 'best efforts' Sam was still an hour late to the lobby, the detour leaving clothes rumpled and his hair mussed beyond help without a comb. Hardly the picture of innocence.

And yet the only thing he received from Alan was a look of mild curiosity. He was sure he could hear gears turning fruitlessly in the older man's head, his own vision of Sam and extremely vanilla personality denying him the realization. It was disappointing. 

"You really shouldn't play secret agent in here." There was some faint tint of scolding to the words, but his pale blue eyes smiled with amusement. Warm.

His denial had begun to border on pathetic, and Sam wanted to push at that impossibly well-built wall of naiveté and watch the structure bend.

There was no fun in sneaking without the chance of getting caught.

"And why's that?" He tilts his head to the right when he asks, far too cocky to be cute, but Alan still smiles and the blond's irritation makes him almost stupidly bold. "I can fit myself under a desk no problem. I doubt even _you_ could catch me." As if the words aren't enough, the blond adds a cheeky little smirk for good measure.

Again the gears are turning, faster, determined, but whatever short progress there had been vanished when two and two finally came together to make six. "Is that why Mackey was acting like that? You had him in on your little game of hide and seek?" He _laughed_ , and the border is crossed.

Sam runs his fingers through his hair as nonchalantly as his irritation will allow before shrugging in response to the set of questions. "Maybe." He answers noncommittally because he can, and wastes no more time in heading out that door.

He doesn't feel the eyes on his teasingly swaying hips when he leaves, and he won't feel them on him in the car on the drive back either. He never does.

Which is precisely how Alan intended on keeping it.


	4. Roy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sort of odd. Going into this fic, Roy's chapter is the one I was most iffy about writing, but now I think it might be my favorite.

He was never particularly fond of Roy. He didn't dislike him, he just didn't care for him much either. 

But he was an opportunist at heart, and Sam smiled wide and sweet when Alan said he was going to visit his friend and invited the blond to tag along. He always did when Alan offered to bring him to see Roy.

See, despite not being to fond of Roy himself, Sam had enjoyed his little game with the curly haired programmer _immensely_. And even after the best part was over the entertainment value didn't even seem close to fading.

He'd kept to himself throughout every visit before that night for years, just watching as Roy and Alan conversed over one topic or another, and thinking curiously on the slight glitter he saw in Kleinberg's eyes when he spoke to Alan. It wasn't until after he'd turned sixteen that he caught him rubbing one out and gasping his godfather's name, something that had initially filled him with an almost blinding amount of jealousy, and then ebbed away into an idea.

The very next visit had Sam cozying himself up to Roy at every opportunity. Fleeting touches, feeble excuses to stand or just _be_ _close_ , and the occasional whisper to him. Nothing obscene or dirty, just a joke or comment he 'didn't want Alan to hear'. But the effect was somehow almost the same, if Roy's shudders and slightly flushed cheeks were anything to go by. Good.

It had taken months, just enough visits to lose count, and Sam was sure it would've taken even longer if Alan hadn't had to go away on business and needed to leave his charge in the care of someone he could trust. Such a wonderful judge of character, Alan.

Three hours away from Alan, and Sam was guided down onto his knees on the kitchen floor, fingers digging into Roy's thighs for balance as the older man's tangled in his hair as he fucked his mouth in earnest. He gave a grunt with every thrust into Sam's welcoming mouth that he made, the sounds growing loud and desperate as Sam began to take him in deep enough to touch the back of his throat, and in seconds Roy was pulling back and cumming in the blond's pretty face.

 

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder rouses him from his memories, and he blinks the lingering flashes of the hands and heated skin out of his mind's eye before turning to Alan and returning the smile he was given. "Here already?" He asked despite the very obvious fact that they were in Roy's driveway.

Alan laughed, muttered something about him falling asleep with his eyes open, and got out of the car without another word. This was going to be a fun visit. He hadn't seen Roy in _weeks_.

 

Sam toed his shoes off at the door as the adults exchanged their hellos, as it was a rule in Roy's house. To keep from tracking dirt in, he said, though Sam was sure it had more to do with the man's obsession with socked feet. There wasn't any real evidence of it, but the teen knew a hungry look when he saw one, and Roy had barely taken his eyes off of Sam since he'd bent to untie his shoes.

"Roy?" Sam looks up when he hears Alan's questioning tone, surprised the man even noticed, and his heart starts to pound when he sees the guilt flash in the brown-haired man's eyes. But it's gone by the time he turns to the other man, robbing them all of a climactic reveal, and replaces it with a smile and a laugh as he scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, I just noticed how much he's starting to look like his old man. It's amazing."

Sam's not sure why, or _how_ , that manages to make him feel as squicked as it does. But oh, it does.

With a soft "Oh?" Alan turned to look at Sam as well, but despite how his eyes roamed the boy's face and frame he didn't seem to see whatever it was Roy had claimed to see. Which was a good thing of course, but Sam was a little busy being disappointed in the lack of interest he saw in Alan's gaze to care. Honestly.. he was lucky his ego was large enough to take a hit.

"If you say so." Alan shrugged, seeming still unconvinced, but directed his attention, and the conversation, back to the reason why he'd stopped by in the first place. It all sounded horribly boring, but he let them chat uninterrupted as he stowed his shoes away and rose from his spot on the floor. He just also quietly inserted himself beneath the arm at Alan's side.. and had to fight off a smug grin when Alan placed a hand on his shoulder, still speaking to Roy as he did so.

Alan didn't know, _couldn't_ know, but that little frown that tugged at Roy's lips only cemented in Sam's head how little that detail mattered. If he could have snapped a picture of Roy's face, he would have.

As it was, however, he had to settle for shooting him a smug grin when Alan looked away. Or, at least, until Alan's pager started to buzz. Naturally he excused himself to make a call, leaving the two to chat amongst themselves until he was done. Roy smiles and tells him he doesn't mind waiting. Sam waves him off.

The door shuts behind him, and for one blissful moment Roy thinks the silence will last until Alan returns.. it doesn't.

"Miss me?" Sam tilts his head, his smile broad and mischievous as if he'd managed to capture how he felt in a single expression. The expression clearly had _Danger_ and _Warning_ written all over it, but the way his tongue ghosted over his lips to keep them nice and moist could have distracted anyone from those points. Crucial as they might be. "I had your little lovebites to keep me company, but I don't think I left you anything."

He watches the emotions war with one another in Roy's eyes, trying to settle on which was the most prominent, and unsurprisingly to Sam the guilt shines brightly through his arousal. However, that didn't last nearly as long as Sam expected. They always caved, that much was true, but usually it took a little more than a few suggestive words and a lick of his lips before he found himself pressed up against the wall, staring wide-eyed as his mouth was kissed open.

Sam doesn't usually allow people to kiss him, rather than the reverse, but Roy's so desperate about it that he toys with the idea that maybe he wants to get caught too.. and fuck if that doesn't turn him on.

The sound of Alan's footsteps from around the other end of the hall echoed loud in his ears, and the feeling of Roy's hands on him stopped being the only thing that drew the soft gasps from his lips. Alan was going to find them, Alan was going to _see_..

"Roy," He called, unsuspecting, and Sam missed the rest of what it was he had to say in the loud internal scream of frustration that sounded in his head when Roy backed off entirely just before Alan turned the corner. But he was still softly panting, his lips still wet from the kiss. If Alan was ever going to pick up on something it would be _now_ , wouldn't it?

"Sam, you ready to go?" He asked, smiling warmly. Sweetly. Completely, blissfully, oblivious.

"Yeah." Sam sighs, walking over to his shoes and getting them on quickly, though only after making a show of wiping away at his mouth. Roy looks surprised, for some unfathomable reason. 

Alan's too busy finishing up their little visit to notice.


	5. Alan

Alan was silent as he pulled up into the driveway, same as he'd been the whole way back to his place, but the music blaring out of the car speakers had distracted Sam from noticing. And his disappointment in a song being abruptly cut off distracted him from the sigh Alan gave as he left the car. 

"Uh, rude."

 

At dinner he asked Sam about the usual things—school, friends, what he's been up to lately—and they soon fell into their usual rhythm without trouble. Alan cleaning and putting away the leftovers, Sam lounging on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table and something mindless on the television. Perfect symbiosis.

It was a full hour before Alan joined Sam in the living room, a mug of what Sam assumed was hot coffee in one hand, and a perfectly clean ceramic bowl in the other. He craned his neck a little, intending to snatch whatever treat he'd made for himself, but Alan just smiled and held it out of reach the moment he sat down. "Sam, we have plenty of fruit left. Go ahead and serve yourself."

The words were met with a playful huff. He wasn't about to get up to go get a bowl of fruit, or even try to steal Alan's. He could keep whatever weird tropical produce he had to himself. But that wasn't the point..

"Come _on_ , Alan." Sam pouted, leaning over a little to try and grab at the bowl. "Sharing is caring, remember?"

Alan seemed to tense, and the blond halted his movements in surprise. Was he uncomfortable? "Al.." Sam pouted, though inside he was practically buzzing with excitement as he leaned over the larger man a little more, his hand resting on his thigh 'for balance' as the fingers of his other hand finally touched the bowl- and Alan looked off. "Sam, stop it."

Sam backed off due the firm tone, but he nearly crawled right back onto him the moment he realized how thickly Alan had swallowed as Sam pulled his hand away, the way he'd cleared his throat and adjusted the tie he still wore.. he was. He _was_ nervous. 

He tried to put on an apologetic face, but keeping the thrill he felt from watching Alan fidget like that from showing on his face was proving to be impossible, and Sam hurried off the couch before he could give himself away. "Fine, I'll go get my own." His tone was so deceptively innocent, one couldn't even blame Alan for allowing himself to relax again.

 

When Sam returned, it was with a bowl of his own and a purposeful stride. He didn't look over at Alan, didn't have to in order to know he was watching, and he found himself blushing for the first time in a good while. It was different from receiving attention from other men. That always felt good enough, of course, but knowing that _Alan_ was following him with his gaze, looking on even as Sam lifted a deep red cherry to his lips and took a bite.. "Mm."

From the corner of his eye he saw the older man shift in his seat before looking away. Sam paused in his eating, one of his fingers lingering on his lower lip to catch the drops of juice as he watched him. He'd either get up now or not at all, Sam had seen that expression enough times to know that. Alan was weighing everything in his mind, likely trying to come up with some excuse he could use to 'justify' his actions.

He never understood why they needed one, but he always let them have it.

Seconds tick away into a full minute, and Sam allows himself a little smirk as Alan settles into his seat again before returning to his snack, and when he does it's messily enough to stain his lips even redder than usual. To get enough juice on his fingers to excuse his licking the mess away, and even sucking off what was left.

He didn't notice Alan had begun to move until he felt those long fingers wrap around his hand to still it, and the delightful touch of his warm skin against the blond's own. "Sam.." He spoke softly, something that always made his deep voice rumble just a little bit more, and now was no exception. "You're making a mess."

It was Sam's turn to fidget, and the suddenly tight fabric of his shorts did nothing to help ease or hide his arousal. Countless times he'd gotten off just with his own hand and the sound of Alan speaking in the next room, or voicemail messages he'd left for Sam, and the fact that the words he spoke couldn't even be twisted into something indecent didn't matter. He had more than a few turn-ons, but there was something very special about Alan's voice that got him harder much faster than any of them.

He looked up at Alan with those bright baby blues of his, licking his lips slowly as he inched a little closer. The older man would never act on.. whatever it was he was thinking and feeling right then, that much Sam was sure of, but that wouldn't keep him from pushing at the boundaries a little. Or a lot, even. 

"I can't help it." He nearly purred, delicate fingers ghosting over the fabric of Alan's slacks right below his thigh. "I've always been a _filthy_ b-"

The bowl that was in Sam's hands falls and hits the floor with a thump, the cherries rolling every which way and undoubtably staining the carpet, but Sam didn't hear and wouldn't have cared if he had.

Alan's hands were on his shoulders, in his hair, sliding down his back, clutching at his waist and his hips. They were everywhere and anywhere he could reach all at once as he kissed the breath right out of the boy in front of him. It was deep and demanding and _hungry for more_ , and Sam whimpered and clutched right back as the surprise gave way to need.

Too soon Alan pulled away again, and Sam gave a whine from those full, wet, lips without shame. He couldn't stop now, how could he even want to? "Al-" He found himself cut off again as the older man brought his mouth to the smooth expanse of skin along his neck and jaw, kissing and nibbling and leaving him in a haze for a moment or several before he realized Alan was even talking, or that he was laying back flat on the cushions with Alan wedged between his legs. "Do you have any idea what it's been like to watch you?" His voice rumbled again, ringing through him and causing a gasp even before those strong hands started to slide down his chest and stomach and back up again. "Bringing those friends of yours up into your room, hearing them moan from out in the hall.."

Sam gasped when Alan bit the skin of his clavicle, no doubt leaving a mark, and nearly _mewled_ when he started to suck at the rosy blemish he'd just made to make damn sure that it would linger.

Idly the blond wondered if Alan knew he was the only one Sam would want to mark him, or attempt to claim him in any way, or if the act was as simple as him wanting to listen to the tiny hitches of Sam's breath as Alan placed his little lovebites all over the column of his throat. It wasn't important either way, not really.

He feels warm hands on his skin, inching upwards beneath his shirt and sliding over his chest to touch and tease before starting to push the cloth off his body, and Sam finds himself torn between the great idea and the desire to never let Alan's mouth leave his skin. 

"D..don't stop." He pleads, but Alan's already pulled away, sitting back on his heels as he looked down at his flushed and panting lover with a smile smug enough to rival even one of Sam's. "So worked up, and I've only kissed your neck.." His gaze wanders down to Sam's arousal, and the heat behind his eyes is enough to make Sam fidget and throb. "Don't your boys touch you, Sam?" Alan asked as he slowly cupped him through his shorts, teasing the prominent bulge with his thumb in agonizingly slow strokes as Sam fought hard to keep from breathlessly begging for more. "Doesn't seem like it.. you're so sensitive." His hand pressed further against Sam's arousal for emphasis in his reaction, and true to his theory Sam reacted much like Alan had knelt between his legs and begun to mouth at him through the fabric.

The palming grew faster, firmer, and Sam's toes curled in his socks as the material began to shift with Alan's movements, causing the friction to build and build to a point where Sam was wildly thrusting up into the other man's touch like he couldn't live without it. Once, twice more and Sam was crying out with his head pressed back into the cushions as he blew his load into his briefs, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hung open wide..

And suddenly any desire Alan had to take his time flew right out the window.

He leaned over Sam fully, pushing his legs up higher as he rocked up against the boy's still clothed-ass to give him no doubt of what he wanted to do, and when the only response Sam gave was a single groan of _Fuck_ as he pressed down against him for more already, Alan wasted no time in stripping him of anything that covered his lower half. 

Alan's breath was warm against his ear as he spoke to him, flattery and filthy little promises as his hands began to wander again, paying special attention to his thighs and his hips before gathering Sam's cum on his fingers, and by the time Alan had begun to slip one wet digit into Sam he'd already started to grow hard again.

Sam desperately gripped at Alan's shoulders as he worked him up to a third, rolling his hips to get them in deeper, to stretch himself open for Alan, and nearly came all over himself again as Alan curled them against some spot inside him that made him want to beg Alan to fuck him _now_.

But he didn't need to say it, Alan could feel how loose he was, and he could hear and see how much Sam wanted it. Alan couldn't wait anymore either.

He wasn't sure where Alan had gotten lube, if it was the little bottle he kept tucked away in the couch or if Alan had his own, but he also wasn't about to ask or try to care when he felt the slick head of his dick pressing up against his opening. 

Alan was slow, careful about it despite how easily Sam took him in, and while Sam might have appreciated that in some distant corner of his mind, he was far too eager to respond to it with anything but a groan full as much with frustration as it was with arousal. He could handle much more, he _wanted_ more.

He wrapped his legs around Alan's waist and pulled him in further, grabbing at the fabric of the shirt Alan hadn't bothered to take off, gasping as his hole stretched to accommodate inch after inch of him.

Alan told himself to wait for Sam to adjust, even if Sam kept proving how used to all this he was, but the feeling of Sam beneath him, _around_ him, was a lot to ignore. And the breathy little moans he gave, pleading Alan to take him, were impossible to.

And, really, he could never deny Sam.

The blond clings tighter as he starts to move, steady noises starting to fill the air as Alan's pace quickens enough that he forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch Sam's face for any sign of discomfort. There's none, unsurprisingly, and Alan buries the slight twinge of jealousy beneath the fact that Sam's there, with him, legs locked tight around him and already reduced to simple grunts and gasps.

Alan's fingers slid down to hold Sam's hips as he started to move faster, his thrusts growing harder as the blond moaned his encouragement, swears falling freely from his lips like it was the most exquisite thing he'd ever felt..

"s..so good.. fuck, Alan, don't stop."

Alan bent down and caught his lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing his mewls and pleas for more as he complied and changed the angle of his thrusts to get in deeper. Sam tightened around him instantly, started rocking his hips faster as the older man repeatedly thrust up against his prostate, and Alan held on tight to the blond's hips as he moaned openly against the other's rosy and so wet lips. It was good, _too good_ , and Alan knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up.

He began to fuck Sam in earnest, ignoring the creaking protest of the couch coils beneath them as he pounded into him over and over. So close..

Alan's fingers curled around Sam's neglected arousal as he buried his head in the spot between the blond's neck and shoulder, letting out one long groan into the supple skin beneath his mouth as he spilled himself into Sam. He didn't slow his rhythm, didn't stop the movement of his hand. Not until the last of his orgasm had washed over him, not before he'd filled Sam up.

Not before Sam cried out his name once more in release.

 

Sam lay still, feeling sated and boneless, and wondered if he'd ever leave that spot again. Even with his own, much larger, bed waiting for him upstairs, it didn't seem like the most favorable idea in the world. Even Alan, who must have had the same thought, settled in what room was left on the couch beside him. 

Without having to ask, he tugged the throw blanket off the couch and covered them with it, the bulk of it on Sam. And as the blond snuggled in closer, felt one strong arm draping over his waist, he realized that spending the night just like that was definitely an option.

..and maybe a great one.


End file.
